Warcraft IV: War of Legends
by Gigawolf1
Summary: Set during WoW. Arthus and Ner'zhul have shared a body for 5 years. So when Arthus asks for one favor, Ner'zhul cannot refuse... Especially since it means the end of the Humans...
1. Prologue

Warcraft IV: War of Legends

Prologue

A small village, on the border between Ashenvale and Felwood… 

A single Night Elf warrior watched over a small clearing. As he watched, a few wisps began to form into Ancient Protectors. When eliminating Undead forces, he liked to send large amounts of the Night Elf structures into the enemy base. With the Black Citadel removed from the land held for more than five years, ever since the second coming of the Burning Legion. Here, near his home village, the Undead could never be fully eradicated. He was not actually native to the village, but had arrived some time between the Sundering of the world and the Sleep of the Druids.

His past known only to himself, he had risen among the ranks until he became the leader of a small group of druids. These were known as the Druids of the Pack. They were able to become large wolves. He himself became a Dire Frost Wolf, largely different from any other of the group. His group had slumbered in the Barrow Dens along with the wardens and their prisoners, including Illidan, the famous Night Elf betrayer, and brother of Malfurion Stormrage. Malfurion had not needed to awaken them separately from the Druids of the Claw, who roamed free in the eastern parts of the cavern. The Druids of the Pack were constantly shifting in and out of the Emerald Dream, never fully able to stay within it.

They were still slumbering, though lightly, when Tyrande Whisperwind freed Illidan from his ancient prison. Few Night Elves truly considered ten thousand years to be ancient, as many were at least that old, though some were younger. He had been told to watch Illidan, to ensure that no true harm came of him. When Illidan consumed the Skull of Gul'dan, he raced to Malfurion to warn him of the demon Tichondrious, immune to all but the mightiest of strikes. When he heard of what had happened, he alone knew that Illidan had done the only thing possible to stop the Dread Lord.

His thoughts were broken as the wisps struggled to build on one spot, but they could not. As he turned, he understood the problem. Cursing, he threw Dust of Appearance on the spot. Sure enough, a Shade was revealed. It would still be a few seconds before all Undead structures would be revealed to his forces, but surely a single Shade could not signify…

His worst fears were confirmed as his forces noted a second base. Though it held no Necropolis or Halls of the Dead, many Undead units guarded it. Abominations, Ghouls, Necromancers, Banshees, Gargoyles, Destroyers, Obsidian Statues, Frost Wyrms… Many Undead creatures swarmed through, disregarding any sign of Night Elf threat. They focused instead on a small attack force of unknown origin.

"If there's one thing I hate fighting…" muttered Istraz Neverwinter, "It's Frost Wyrms. Undead Blue Dragons, the flight of the Dragon Aspect Malygos… Malygos the Spell-Weaver, Malygos the Blue, Malygos the Mad… He whose flight was brought to near extinction not once, but twice. Once by Neltharion the Earth-Warder, and then by the Scourge! No longer are they Blue Dragons. Now they are only the Undead. They must be slain without remorse, except that they had to suffer such a fate."

Istraz sighed as the Huntresses and Hippogriffs went to slay the Undead. He felt that Hippogriff Riders only weakened the naturally strong Hippogriffs, who were normally Melee fighters. The Glaive Throwers and Chimeras followed, ready to eliminate the structures as the crowd parted. As the Hippogriffs overwhelmed the Frost Wyrms, The Huntresses distracted the land units. The siege was barely noticed in time. The Undead could not anticipate the sudden attack from behind, consisting solely of Ancients. A figurative forest of Ancient Protectors consumed the Undead from behind, leaving the Scourge dead at last. A top priority of the siege was removing the Necromancers. By destroying the Graveyard and Temple of the Damned, The power for Necromancers to rise was reduced. Once those structures were gone, the Huntresses focused on the remaining Necromancers. Istraz himself ran into the fray, slicing the stitches of the Abominations. He saw one thing he hoped never to see, far in the distance: A single undead ship, too far to see normally, containing a single body. But within this one body, two minds lurked. One was old and wise, driven to consume the world by madness. The other had served for years, turned from Warrior of the Light to Bringer of Death.

Suddenly, Istraz knew why these Undead had amassed. The Druids had, in recent times, learnt to sense weak disruptions in the earth from vast distances, without tearing their minds trying to sense it all. What he sensed was no minor disruption, however: What he sensed, what he saw, could be no less than the King of the Scourge. It could be no less then Ner'zhul, the Lich King, in the body of Arthus. And he knew then that the two minds remained separate, and that the Lich King had allowed Arthus to control the whole Scourge for one final strike against the humans, and that these Undead were there only to stop scouts from warning the humans of Theramoore Isle…

With that realization, he cast a massive spell to destroy the monstrosities that flew above him, sending them into their own structures. He sent more Glaive Throwers at the first base, leaving it in ruins. As he watched, the Undead burned without the power of their structures to keep them ordered.

"A scout must reach Teldrassil and warn them of the threat to Theramoore!" The scouts nodded and left. Escaping the beasts of Felwood, they ran towards the massive tree that most Night Elves called home.

"And we must work to sink that ship! It may be far, but if that ship reaches the shores of Theramoore Isle…"

"Sir, what will it do? Can't the Undead survive underwater?"

"He can, but he intends to take a prisoner…"

AN: My first Warcraft fic! Three guesses as to which character he will kidnap, and the first two don't even count… However, there will be one character from Theramoore who will be fun to create, due to how insane he is…


	2. Invasion of Theramoore

Warcraft IV: War of Legends

Chapter 1: The Invasion of Theramoore Isle

During the night, few humans stayed awake. After five years of living in relative peace, they were used to the lack of war. Though their people who remained in Azeroth and Lordaeron continued to hate the Orcish Horde, the people of Theramoore Isle were on peaceful terms with the Warchief, Thrall. However, none of these thoughts concerned the lowly peasant who had to watch the docks that evening. It was an uneventful duty, as there were rarely any visitors to the place, and few of those that did come ever came at night.

He was not the only one on duty, however. He had two others to keep him company. He was saddened when one of his friends stood and said, "I think I'll take a bit of a walk." The other silently stood and went out to the edge of one of the docks. He had been acting strangely, likely missing his homeland of Lordaeron. He had been in Stratholme with his family before the Plague had struck, but had the fortune of leaving for a few days just prior to the Culling of Stratholme by the fallen Prince Arthas.

As he sighed in loneliness, he spotted a lone ship in the distance. He gasped as he recognized it as being an Undead Transport ship. He stood frozen in fear until he heard the neighing of a horse. From the deck of the ship leapt a horse, landing unstably on the land some distance away. The horse rode rapidly towards him, and only then did he see a rider in a black cloak holding on for dear life.

The rider left his horse as it came close to the dock, and the beast suddenly calmed. The mere peasant stayed still as the figure approached him. When the man looked in the rider's eyes, he felt a chill. He did not know why, for he saw blue eyes, eyes that showed him a level of… innocence. The rider panted from his obviously hectic ride.

"It's good to see someone who lives. I was a scout for the forces of Lordaeron. My party kept together for only a few months, and then we ended up in small groups. My horse and I are the only ones who remain of that party who are free of the Scourge's control. They plan to lay siege to Theramoore! I must warn Lady Jaina! Where is her Citadel?" The peasant, too shocked to say anything, merely pointed at the humungous rock spire that was the top of Theramoore Citadel.

As the mysterious rider walked away, the peasant noticed that the brooding watchman from Stratholme had returned to where they were to be watching. He looked after the rider with an expression that the peasant thought to be questioning.

"He said that the Undead are coming, but I don't trust him. Something's not quite right…"

A small flicker of darkness crossed the face of the man who evaded the fate of Stratholme. "That's because he's not human. He's Arthas, the man who slew all of Stratholme to keep them from joining the Scourge. He then became the ruler of the Scourge. He's come to destroy Theramoore, and no one can stop him." The peasant had only a few seconds to wonder about what he had heard, for he was then stabbed by the acolyte who had helped bring the Plague to Stratholme, who had hidden amongst the Survivors of Lordaeron as a peasant. The third of the Watch Party slipped into the darkness, hoping to awaken all of Theramoore Isle to the threat. As he ran, he looked out to sea.

What he saw was a second Undead Transport, though escorted by Frost Wyrms and Undead Battleships. On the deck he saw Abominations and Ghouls, often used during small, unimportant Undead invasions. He thought quickly of the one thing that occurred to him: That the Undead expected a sleeping isle. He raced to the nearest Town Hall and reached the bell. As he looked outside, he was horrified to learn that the acolyte was summoning a Necropolis, an Undead structure that made Blight. This was a full-scale invasion! He quickly rang the bell, pulling the ropes as hard as he could. He continued this even after several warriors had awakened. He finally stopped ringing it as a Ghoul reached the top of the spire and grabbed him. The foul undead creature then began to devour the human.

Nevertheless, the humans had been awakened, and the battle was joined. Many humans fought to protect the mighty Theramoore Isle, which they felt was the last stronghold of peaceful humans left in all of Azeroth. And they could very well have been right.

However, as this happened, Arthas made his way through Theramoore Citadel. As he climbed, he found little opposition. All that stood in his way throughout the climb stood later as an undead warrior, sent into the unholy state of undeath by the power of Frostmourne itself. He slowly made his way into Jaina Proudmoore's room, leaving a trail of the newly undead behind him.

As he approached the door to her room, he heard her teleport. He ordered his undead to find her, as she had to remain within the Citadel. His most advanced spellcasters had trapped her within, unless she walked out. And none would let her out.

Silently, he turned as one of the undead found her. It was gone a moment later, but Arthas had found his quarry. He descended towards the Main Hall, near the entrance. As he slowly approached the hall, Frostmourne glowed. As he approached the doors, his cursed Runeblade struck a nearby corpse, years old, which was in a locked room. The power of the blade slowly filled the corpse with thoughts of vengeance and spite, completely unbeknownst to the Lich King. He was so focused upon his task, which the Undead he had raised accidentally grew without his influence, a creature that would serve no command of the lord of the Scourge.

He entered the hall as Jaina prepared a massive spell to destroy the Undead that threatened her people. Arthas and his warriors grabbed her, halting her spell. "Arthas! You betrayed all you held dear once, and now you come to end my life as well. But the people of Theramoore Isle and their allies will defeat you, whether I fall or not!"

"Wrong, Jaina. They will fall, but not this day. And it will be because you fall, but not the way you think. I intend to turn you into an Undead Witch, with powers beyond that of any you held in life." And with that, the Undead took Jaina Proudmoore to an undead transport ship, undiscovered by the humans.

The humans repelled the Scourge, but were disheartened when they found that their lady had been taken. Worse, her father's remains were no where to be found…

AN: I realized my mistake about Arthas' name as I started this chapter… That should be fine from now on, though. And now the catalyst has entered, the war shall soon begin…


	3. A Mad Messenger

Warcraft IV: War of Legends

Chapter 2: A Mad Messenger

The Warchief sat upon his throne in the main hall of his Fortress. He hated being cooped up indoors all the time, but he knew that it was best for the Horde. He was awaiting news from a messenger who was keeping contact between the majority of the Horde and the Forsaken. He, like Cairne and Vol'Jin, did not trust Sylvanas enough to allow her messengers to their side. Drek'Thar had told him of Garona, and how she slew a human King.

A knock on the door followed by them being thrust open broke him from his thoughts. "Thrall, Warchief of the Orcish Horde! Long has the Scourge threatened these lands, and now they have begun their strike! The Invasion of Theramoore, which still now is passing, is only the first step. Take up arms, and lead your people to end the Scourge! The only hope for Kalimdor, and for Jaina Proudmoore, is to take the battle to Northrend before it is too late!"

Thrall did not interrupt, clearly trying to take it all in. 'Who are you, and how dare you enter so rudely?' was what he wanted to say, but could not. As though he was under some sort of a spell, he asked instead "What will happen to Jaina when it is too late?"

The stranger replied quickly, "She will become an Undead Sorceress." As he spoke, he strode to where Thrall could see him. He was tall, taller than an Orc, but shorter than a Tauren. He appeared to be a Night Elf, but there was something odd about him…

"What are you?" he asked, unable to think of any creature the thing before him was.

"I am a Dragon Mage, one of the Blue Dragon Flight. Our flight was slain so the Scourge could have strong Air forces. Those that remain now fight the Scourge endlessly. However," paused the Dragon Mage, "There are forces in the Eastern lands that may help bolster your forces. I suggest you journey to Grim Batol to speak with those who live there. They may be able to help find those willing to join your purpose." With that, he turned and walked away. As he left Orgrimmar, he turned into a massive Blue Dragon, who quickly flew north. He had to speak with his old friend. She would help prepare the next part of the fight against the Scourge.

Thrall watched the winged leviathan race north. He was surprised to see an Orc running to him. "Warchief! The Tauren have sent a scout! They say that they sensed immense magic here, and thought that perhaps a Demon had entered!"

"No demon. It was a Dragon mage, come to warn me of an attack on Theramoore Isle by the Scourge. I need you to find Nazgrel. Tell him to form a scouting party to see if the news I received was true. I shall speak to the Tauren; assure them that no demons have entered Orgrimmar."

"That is good to hear, old friend," said Cairne. "The magic my Spirit Walkers sensed here was mighty, older even than the Tauren race. Such ancient magic was thought to be that of a demon lord, but you say it was a dragon giving a message. Tell me, what did he say?"

Though Thrall was surprised and honoured that Cairne himself came to investigate, he hid it well. "The news is no better than a demon, I'm afraid. The Scourge may have taken Theramoore Isle. From there, they may try to take Kalimdor." He left out Jaina being kidnapped. He had figured, from what he had been told, that Jaina had to be slain and raised in Northrend.

"Warchief! The party is ready! We await only your command!" Thrall nodded, showing the Grunt that the party was to leave. As he rejoined the party, Cairne looked back at Thrall and said, "For the sake of the land, I hope the Dragon was wrong."

"So do I, Cairne. So do I."

AN: Several (meaning all) of my other stories are on less violent concepts with younger suggested viewing audiences. The existence of the one and only Scourge keeping Theramoore busy was a nice concept. They're already eliminated, and the rest are heading inland. However, the humans may have to rebuild a farm or two…


	4. Shan'Do Stormrage

Warcraft IV: War of Legends

Chapter 3: Shan'Do Stormrage

Tyrande stroked Malfurion's chin lovingly. For years he had been trapped between the Material Plane and the Emerald Dream. The druid who had taken his place as leader of the Night Elves, Fandral Staghelm, had recklessely begun to slip towards the less noble side of magic. As a kind gift at the end of the War of the Ancients (and to seal away the new Well of Eternity, she thought wryly), the three Dragon Aspects who where not buried in madness had created a tree. They called it Nordrassil, 'Tree of the Heavens.' For more than ten thousand years, Malfurion and his fellow druids had slumbered off and on to maintain the tree, for that was Ysera's gift: The Tree spread through the Material Plane and the Emerald Dream, her realm. Ysera, She of Dreaming, was the Green Dragon Aspect that all Night Elves looked up to.

The other two aspects, much lesser in Night Elf eyes, were Alextrasza, the Red Dragon Aspect. She represented life itself, and was Ysera's sister. She made the Night Elves immune to illness as long as the tree stood. Nozdormu the Bronze, the Timeless One, exsisted at all times. His gift was that of eternal life to the Night Elves as long as it stood. However, these gifts came with a responsibility: It sat upon a re-created Well of Eternity. The first had drawn the insidious Burning Legion, which went from world to world. They would certainly come to the second well. Both Malfurion and Tyrande had known it.

When it happened, they came first in the form of the Undead, a force which grew as its foes fell. They had defiled the ancient forests, and only the power of the Druids could stop them. Malfurion awakened the Druids of the Talon without much difficulty, but when he went to raise the Druids of the Claw, they had passed Illidan's Prison. Illidan, Malfurion's own brother, had created a new Well of Eternity. For this, he was chained beneath the earth for ten thousand years. Hoping that his power could help defeat the demons, she had released him. He had repaid her trust by becoming a demon himself. He had been banished, only to try and rip Northrend asunder. Maiev Shadowsong had pursued him, but called for Malfurion and Tyrande's aid.

She prayed to Elune for strength. Ever since the first coming of the Legion, she had never truly had any time with Malfurion. For ten thousand years, he had slumbered so that the second Well would never be used. When the tree had been destroyed, they had merely examined it before they went to fight Illidan. When they returned to Kalimdor, Malfurion had checked out the Emerald Dream to see the damage, he had been trapped between the worlds.

During the years, Tyrande had gotten several druids to get closer to the green dragons to try and find Malfurion. One of these was Istraz Neverwinter. She hadn't trusted him before the Third War (the second coming of the Legion coming after the first two wars between Orcs and Humans, and was thusly the common Alliance view), but he had led several expeditions against remaining Undead forces in Felwood. Besides, she thought to herself, he was relatively well accepted by the dragons. A voice startled her, breaking her thoughts.

"How goes the caring, Lady Tyrande?" said Istraz. He had this odd way of sneaking up on people without even trying. However, every now and then, he would return to check on Malfurion.

"It goes as well as it can, Istraz," she said cooly. "He has not yet awoken from his slumber. Do you have any idea how to free him from this? Have the dragons found him yet?"

Istraz shook his head. "They have as little idea as you or I. My only possible idea is that a Night Elf and a Green Dragon pass from different ends of reality, one to the Dream and one from it. Other than that, I can think of nothing."

Tyrande sighed. "I should not have freed Illidan all those years ago. We pursued him to the Eastern world. If we had remained here, this would not have happened!"

"A wise friend of mine once said that destiny is written in stone, for it includes your choices. Who knows? Perhaps Illidan is the very reason you live today!"

"Wise indeed, Istraz. Perhaps your wisdom is surpased only by the joy of your latest report from the front?" Fandral Staghelm had entered, unbeknownst to them. He was hoping for the latest report as to how the Scourge was being eliminated.

"Well, another base and a small attack force have been eliminated near the border. Already the Ancients are forming there. However, there is far worse news. A Hippogriff Rider I sent out to scout says that two Undead ships recently landed on Theramoore Isle. Beyond that, it appears that Jaina Proudmoore has been kidnapped. I believe that she is being taken to Northrend, the home of the Scourge!"

Fandral shook his head. "The humans always get in trouble. Take your forces to the eastern coast and try to catch the Undead. If you can sink their ships, you may be able to end the Scourge. Also, make sure that you do your best to free the Sorceress. You leave on your mission right away!" And with that he left the room.

"What I said of Illidan..." began Istraz.

"He could not have anything to do with this. He fled to some forsaken land, where no power of this world could reach!"

"I was going to say that you did the only thing you could have. I watched as he slew a nigh-unstoppable demon. You did the right thing, High Priestess. Though, I must wonder, if perhaps he might be able to help Malfurion, being his twin and all. However," he paused, "It would be unwise and extremely difficult to do so. After all, as you said in lesser words, no aspect of this world can reach him where he is." With that, Istraz left the room.

'No aspect of this world can reach him where he is,' thought Istraz. He called together his forces and got them to mobilize. 'If only the Scourge were gone in such a way!' He then got onto a Hippogriff and prepared to fly to the eastern coast. Wisps loaded into Goblin Zeppelins, Archers on there Hippogriffs, his group took flight. Meanwhile, the Druids of the Talon flew as Storm Corws beside them. The bears and wolves followed their respective Druids, showing that they remained loyal to the group. As they flew over the border between Ashenvale and Felwood, however, a malicious creature with horns wore an evil, knowing grin... The master would soon enter battle...

AN: Well, the Scourge, in all it's evil, will soon enter another battle... And then the fun part will begin!


	5. Unfortunate Reminders

Warcraft IV: War of Legends

Chapter 4: Unfortunate Reminders

Deep below the ruined capital city of the once-proud Lordaeron, several acolytes were extremely worried. Lady Sylvanas had left with no word to her tireless undead who served her apothecary. She had left with Varimathras and her elite banshees. The abomination guards served no help, as they could not tell the worried Forsaken where their mistress had gone.

Sylvanas did not feel bad about leaving her forces unaware. The only question that came to her mind was whether or not they would be there when she returned. After all, without them, she could not destroy all life in the world. Once, she would have cared whether they survived, but the powerr of undeath had affected her in the same way it had all others: she no longer cared for anything other than revenge and death. She was flying west as fast as she could, for the oppurtunity could very likely never arise again. Arthas had left Northrend to attack Theramoore Isle. For a while, he would not be surrounded by an army of Scourge warriors. She had hoped to bring a navy, but the ships would be too slow. Besides, she had already made it to Kalimdor.

She mused about the irony that she only knew where he was because she was undead. All the undead could sense their creator, their one-time master. The Lich King had put much power into Arthas, she knew that much, but she did not know that they had become two minds with one body. She took the motion of the Lich King as Arthas alone. If she had known the truth, she would have moved with more speed, for his power would wane across the world, but would be much stronger in his general area. She needed to destroy him quickly, or else there would be dire consequences. However, she knew nothing of this, so she went at a normal pace.

Bored, she looked outside in time to see a human ship speeding at the front of a small navy. They all headed in the same way she did. Curious, she made the goblin hostage turn left. The ships did not follow her, and so she knew that they also chased Arthas. Confident, she told the goblin to follow the ships. She noticed at the rear that a single transport ship held two men speaking.

"How many messengers have left?"

"One for the Night Elves, one for the Dwarves and Gnomes, one for the Orcs..."

"The Orcs? If they got the message, then where are they?"

Both were surprised as a skeletal figure came out of the hull and said, "I slew him. I don't want any damn orcs interfering with this chase! Sorry, but I'm commandeering your navy."

The two men looked at him with horror. One drew his sword as the other tried to hide. "No undead warrior will take the navy of Theramoore Isle!"

The bony man frowned. "Undead? Do you mean me? I am no undead! I am Admiral Daelin Proudmoore of Kul'Tiras, and a paladin to boot!" He promptly tried to use his power of Holy Light, but instead used Death Coil, on the man. Shock in his eyes, he slumped over, dead. Walking over his corpse, he looked over the edge at the water. He briefly saw that he was, in fact, an undead. As he turned, he noticed that the man stood once more. All at once, he remembered his death. Instantly, rage filled him. He thought of those responsible for his current situation. He awaited the blade of the man to bite him, but it never came. The man was undead, and would serve Proudmoore until the end.

Interested, he struck down the other man. However, he did not rise. He then knew that he could turn one into an undead servant with his Death Coil power. Somehow, he knew that this was not normal, even for a Death Knight, but he could not understand why. Then he remembered his rage towards Thrall, Rexxar, Rok'han, Arthas, and even Jaina, for putting him in this situation. He then went on, taking other ships, using his Death Coil, until the human fleet became his.

"Hello. I see you hate humanity. Perhaps you would like to help me get revenge on Arthas?" said Sylvanas, as she landed on one of the ships.

AN: Well, the players are all in place, a.k.a. most of them are in the story already. A few will be introduced later, but these are the main people for now...


	6. Advance to Theramoore

Warcrat IV: War of Legends

Chapter 5: Advance to Theramoore

Nazgrel was bored. During the last five years, only disaster had fallen upon the Alliance-Horde relations. He had helped Rexxar during the first part of his journey, which had ended with the death of Daelin Proudmoore, and the breaking of the pact. Now he led a large group of mounted and unmounted orcs to investigate the only major Human city in the area of Kalimdor. This was supposed to be a minor incidence, a mere investigation to see the threat to Durotar the Scourge posed. He knew that the Warchief was rarely emotional. However, he had been among the orcs who had been stuck in the internment camps, and had seen Thrall's rage first hand. He had been one of those who had seen Taretha's head. As he had soon learnt, that was the man's last mistake.

Nazgrel thought of the great fortune he had, serving under the son of Durotan. He had been raised by a human noble (the man Thrall slew later, whose name Nazgrel could never remember), and so knew of their strategies. He had made this point time and again, even just a short time before becoming allies with the humans under the leadership of Jaina Proudmoore. His thoughts were broken as a peon came to him. "Lord Nazgrel! We have found a goblin laboratory!"

"Good. We can use their telescope to see the island and get home!"

Nazgrel and several raiders rode to the the doorstep of the laboratory. Dismounting, they pushed their way through the goblins standing outside. Nazgrel dropped a small sum of coins into the head goblin's hand as he went to the telescope. The goblins ran away while he inspected the damage done to Theramoore. He saw several shades that were not trying to be hidden at all, unless a footman came along. That was rather rare, but there was a patrol. The occasional ghoul that he spotted would quickly be hunted down and slain. Only once did he see an abomination, and it was fallen. Then he looked more inland and gasped.

The damage was much more extensive than the shore revealed. Theramoore Citadel was damaged, and blight spread across much of the ground. Every gate was broken by the power of the Scourge, and any true invasion force could have destroyed them. He knew many of those with him would prefer to destroy Theramoore Isle than report it, but they were not nearly strong enough to deal with the defences, ruined though they were.

His shock turned to panic as he saw Frost Wyrms and Gargoyles destroying the three remaining human ships. He knew most had escaped, due to the lack of wreckage, but far too many had been sunk. He only needed one more sign to convince him of a possible threat to the Horde, and that came a moment later.

He ran out of the laboratory to find the orcs fighting the Scourge. Those raiders he had left outside had slowed them, but their corpses remained. The attack force was made mostly of Abominations and Frost Wyrms, along with a few Meat Wagons. The Abominations were being killed by the large amounts of well-trained Grunts during war time, but he had only a few weak units. He ran into the forest that bordered the laboratory, and thought he was alone. He reached a clearing and then realized he was not alone. He looked around and found the peon who had alerted him to the laboratory. The peon drew Nazgrel's mount beside him.

"I escaped them by running into the woods. I found your mount and led him here. They must have released your mount so they could not find you."

Nazgrel was relieved to find his mount alive, but still noted how vague the peon was. "My raiders sacrificed their lives and saved mine. I shall not let their memory die in vain." With that, he mounted his wolf. "There is enough room on my wolf to let you ride back as well! Get on!"

The peon shook his head sadly. "The undead will catch you unless I help to hold them back. Good luck, Nazgrel!" The raider general noted the peon no longer called him 'lord,' which was not an orc title at all.

As the orc raider rode away, the 'peon' grinned. He was growing, beginning to resemble a troll. He slowly grew into his true form, a massive blue dragon, and froze the Frost Wyrms before they could strike. 'Now,' he thought to hismelf as the Abominations were crushed under frozen corpses, 'Where could she be?'

AN: Trust me, Thrall cares that Jaina's been taken. That's why he's going to Grim Batol during his next part. However, a major part of the story will shock you, and is coming soon...


	7. Fall of the Pack: Part 1

Warcraft IV: War of Legends

Chapter 6: Fall of the Pack (Part 1)

Arthas had nothing to do during the long passage from Theramoore to Northrend. Jaina had to remain in special enchanted chains, lest she would use her more advanced magic to escape. The Lich King had realized in the five years since they joined together that he could not control the Scourge and a body at the same time. Instead, he granted Arthas' mind complete control over their body most of the time.

However, both had agreed upon this plan. The true beauty of this plan, Ner'zhul mused, was that humanity would be useless without perhaps the most intelligent leader of humans. Beyond that, Arthas had begun to remember those he had forsaken. He had ignored Muradin, betrayed Terenas, and slew Uther. The only threat the Alliance still held was now in chains, and would soon serve the Scourge the same way Arthas would.

With the death of the Kirin Tor, Jaina had become the most powerful sorceress in the world, her powers matching the long-dead Antonidas all those years ago. Now, five years later, she had only grown stronger. The thoughts of forcing Jaina to serve the Scourge would have excited Ner'zhul, but the ship suddenly smashed into the shore.

Cursing, Ner'zhul spread his mind to the captain of the ship. With the new Undead from Theramoore, he had many crew members on board. He reached out to their minds, but to no avail. The corpses would serve him if they could, but without the magics of the Plague, they quickly succumbed to Rigor Mortis. His power had been more focused upon capturing Jaina, and so had not fully corrupted those now on board. He raced to the top of the ship to find that the other Undead ship still followed him. As he went ashore, he contacted the acolyte on on the other ship and told them to make a base on the shore.

The Necropolis slowly formed. When completed, the blight infested the land. This did not go unnoticed by a Druid of the Pack who had been dispatched early, watching for a sign of the Scourge. He turned and ran from the growing blight, as fast as he could. He saw the shade following him only briefly, but it was enough. He used his Dust of Appearance and found a single shade. As he was preparing to strike it down, he realized that it was different from those that served the first Undead base he had sighted. He went back to his base to confirm his suspicions: There were two Undead bases nearby.

"Damnit! Where is Ma... Malfurion?" He was surrounded by other Night Elves, but was still partially blinded by the sunlight coming down a nearby hill. A magnificent figure with antlers had appeared. The others turned as well, hoping to Elune that it was truly the Arch Druid. To their dismay, it was only a Keeper of the Grove. Though Cenarius had been a worshipped Demigod, his children were not worshipped at all. True, they were looked up to, but none could compare to the son of Elune and Malorne.

When the Druids of the Pack had been formed, they had to understand that Ysera was the true mother of Cenarius. All had to get into their heads the concept that Elune the Night Elven Moon Goddess was, in fact, Ysera. This was a primary belief to them, as the moon was their totem. As such, they needed to understand the exsistence of all creatures. Where some druids were scouts and supporters, the Druids of the Pack were negotiators who loved life and could endure even the most harsh of conditions to find allies in their fights. Since there was no well-known Wolf Demigod, they looked to Elune herself, as well as Malorne. They respected the power of the Stag, though they refused to think of taking such a form. Though they once insisted that Malorne's remains should be buried beneath Mount Hyjal, his corpse, divine though it was, had decayed too much for it to be moved. However, where he had died was blasted beneath the sea, and few really dared to go to the bottom of the sea just for some bones, holy as they may be.

Regardless of his lineage, no Keeper of the Grove compared to Malfurion. Brothers to the Dryads and cousins of the cursed Centaurs, they appeared more natural to the Night Elves as time went on. They were as normal as the Priestesses of the Moon, though less common. However, it was always good when one joined an army. "Greetings, honored son of Cenarius. I am Aquinar Flamebringer. Have you joined us to repel the Scourge?"

The massive figure nodded. "Indeed I have, Aquinar! However, I am in shock that you regocnized me so easily! Many mistake me for my children, as they once did to my brother as well!"

At this, all the Night Elves silently rejoiced. This was one of the two children of Cenarius: The Keepers of the Grove and Dryads were truly the sons of the one who stood before him, who was himself sired by the Demigod. It was his brother, Zaetar, who had sired the Centaurs with the Earth Princess. Though most Keepers of the Grove were truly the grandchildren of Cenarius, here stood Remolus!

A single banshee was shocked. During the invasion of Quel'Thalas, she had been a historian. Now, before her stood a legend of his own right. She envied his body, that which she had not possessed since she was slain by Arthas. However, she would have preffered a female body, one more similar to her original. She snuck into the base, thinking she was unnoticed, and possessed a lone archer. At once, a figure appeared and struck her down. Three more banshees were scouting the base, and all wished for a body as well. None saw the archer being struck down, so they slowly hunted three huntresses. One was waiting for the other two to prepare everything, and so was spared. When the first one entered her new body, she was slain swiftly. The second was immobile long enough to be slain without even entering the Night Elf. The third, afraid, started to escape back to the base of the Dark Lady, Sylvanas.

**To be continued... **


	8. Fall of the Pack: Part 2

Warcraft IV: War of Legends

Chapter 7: Fall of the Pack (Part 2)

Remulos checked over the Night Elf defences. Their base consisted of many Ancients, ready to battle at a moment's notice. This area had been a Jaedenar outpost, but had been razed relativley quickly. A few weak demons had come through, but were easily slain. However, the Druids of the Pack had to urge the creatures to return. Without that, the land might never have healed. Nonetheless, Remulos intended to restore the land and give an advantage to the Night Elves over their unholy foes.

Aquinar Flamebringer removed his Cloak of Shadows unwillingly. He always had a Moon Stone with him, just in case, though he often left the cloak in his hut. He always put it on before battle, and would hide under the cover of darkness when needed. He had just put it down when the winds of war began to blow. He looked out as he grabbed his cloak, still not seeing anything. Suddenly, the wolves of the forest seemed to appear. As he watched, he realized that these were not the wolves, but rather almost all of the Druids of the Pack.

He ran outside, excited. "Where is Istraz?" he asked with excitement. He, unlike many before him, was one of the older Druids of the Pack. Many had been added to the group since they had awakened, but there were still a few from the first group in the massive army. Many did not hear him, but one did.

"Aquinar! Ish thero donavan!" said one of the Druids. Aquinar's purple skin instantly darkend. "Long time no see, Flamebringer!"

"Hello, Loki! How goes the inland battle, by the side of Istraz?" He, unlike the female before him, had to watch the coast constantly.

She was one of the few female Druids of the Pack, but also one of the oldest. Istraz had picked her (and himself) all those years ago... He shook his head, knowing that more important things were at hand. "He still insists on it, but the others refuse... Have you agreed?"

"No. Of us originals, only he believes in it at all. Though fourteen stand against him, he does not give up!"

She lowered her head. "Twelve, now. One was slain during scouting."

Aquinar was confused. "That's still thirteen. Wait, are you saying someone agreed with him? Who could be so foolish?"

Her head still lowered, she said "He grants us our opinion, but he could easily take it away. You know he does not need our opinion, though he treasures it so..."

Aquinar, clearly shocked, looked away instead. To his horror, he realized that he had completely ignored the beginning of the battle. He saw the many Undead, and wondered why he was safe. He then understood that, not only was he away from the base, but it was night. Loki had worked hard on Shadowmelding, but only his cloak protected him. She didn't notice what she had seen until the ground beneath her turned to blight. She gasped as she saw it, though Aquinar quickly covered her mouth. She almost screamed in horror when she saw several corpses piled up where the Tree of Eternity had been.

Both prepared for the worst as a shade approached. They saw Arthas himself enter the clearing, most likely hoping to kill any survivors. As they braced themselves and closed their eyes, they heard an odd sound. They opened their eyes to find themselves standing in front of Remulos. "Good, I was able to save you! Istraz just arrived and gave me a Gem of Recall! He went off to see the damage for himself. Sadly, I must now take my leave. Farewell, Druids of the Pack!" And with that oddly short encounter ended, the demigod left.

As they stood in shock, they heard a voice call to them. "Aquinar! Loki! How fare you both?" When they looked, they saw two more of the original Druids of the Pack. They were oft considered second only to Istraz himself, so it was no surprise that they had remained with him during the ride. Loki silently resented them, having been safe from the slaughter.

Istraz then arrived from the darkness of the woods. "It is much worse then we could ever imagine," he stated grimly. He then changed topic, saying "Once more, I ask you..."

One of the two Druids, who had previously been calm, turned in a rage. "Now is not the time! Only when all the Druids of the Pack assemble are you to..."

"All the Druids of the Pack, that remain, at least, are here. The hundred we trained and the nine that remained in the battle were all slaughtered... Aquinar and Loki survived through luck. Luck that he had his cloak and luck that it was night."

The Druid that had spoken entered shock as well. "All... Fell?" Only then did it strike them all how massive their loss was. Only then did all of them realize that an order, once a hundred strong, was now five.

The other who had been with Istraz on the way suddenly filled with rage. "You! You planned this! You planned it so we would agree! If we had been there..."

"If we had been there, we would not be here now. Arthas himself was in the battle. Now, once more, I ask you: Will we undertake the dark ritual we make our loyal Night Elves undertake, and swear loyalty to the Lord of Outland?"

The five formed a circle, and their voices showed their thoughts:

"Yes," said Loki Floodwraith

"Yes," said Daedal Darkeye

"Yes," said Jarod Soulender

"... Yes," said Aquinar Flamebringer hesitantly.

Istraz nodded. "Then, the Druids of the Pack are no more. Henceforth, we shall be known as the Soul Hunters." He turned to the woods and whispered. A satyr came from the woods, nodded, and ran away towards a nearby Night Elf base. Their minds corrupted by Felwood, they owed their loyalty only to Illidan. They were about to become satyrs, as the others hated Night Elves with a passion.

One by one, the other Soul Hunters left the circle. At last, only Istraz remained. He thought of what he had to do, and that he had to head east to Khaz Modan. He had to move quickly, lest Arthas reach Northrend. If that happened, all would be lost. He stepped onto a small patch of Blight. As he did, his cloaked form changed. Rather than the loose Druid clothing he had been wearing, he now wore garbs similar to that of a Demon Hunter. On his wrists were warblades similar to theirs. Though his eyes remained in tact, dark inscriptions now covered his skin. Upon blight, the effects of the dark ritual his brethren were now performing were easily seen. However, upon living ground, there was an illusion of how they once were. He grinned as a single wolf stepped from the shadows and then ran towards Teldrassil. He would locate Malfurion, no matter what.

AN: Well, I hope that took you by surprise! Trust me, though, when I say that this is far from the end!


	9. The Dark Pact

Warcraft IV: War of Legends

Chapter 8: The Dark Pact

Sylvanas had finally been prepared to attack Arthas when he had destroyed the Night Elf base. Her plan had been to launch a pincer strike, catching him in between, but that had failed. Her banshee scouts had tried to possess one too many bodies, and had weakened the Night Elf forces. Despite this, she still could not understand how Arthas had razed the base so quickly.

"Greetings, Dark Lady!" said Proudmoore. He had begun to welcome his un-death. His Death Coil ability had the odd side effect of raising the victim as his undead servant. "The Night Elf forces were taken completely by surprise!"

She seethed with rage. "You fool! We needed them to distract the Scourge while we eliminated Arthas!" She then understood that he had slain several Night Elves, and possibly destroyed many of their structures. "I thought that as you had been brought back by Arthas, you would hate him infinitely. However, I cannot tolerate one who does not even think of strategy!"

Proudmoore scoffed. "What do you know of strategy? You and few others had ample chances to slay him before now, but all failed! Of all that stand against him now, I am the only who has not fallen to him!" He paused. "I am now relieving you of your command, Sylvanas. You failed twice, and so you are unworthy of commanding the Forsaken!"

"They will never obey you!"

"Really? My Death Coil can slay any of my foes, including the undead! In fact, several of your forces now obey me!"

Sylvanas was disgusted. Proudmoore, once a proud general and captain of the Kul'Tiras naval fleet, was now no better that Arthas. "I have no time for these games!" She silenced Proudmoore and began to drain his life. He broke away and ran into the woods. "Serves the bastard right! He should never have questioned my authority!"

"Neither should you, Sylvanas. No longer will you be a thorn in my side!" During the conflict, Arthas had come from nowhere. Behind him, the Scourge amassed. His coastal base was now the size of a small village, and all the forces from it were ready to attack the Forsaken base.

Even Sylvanas would not try her luck against such a force. Even if she succeeded in killing Arthas, he would just be revived at his Altar of Darkness. Beyond that, his forces marched before him. She inwardly fumed as she ordered the retreat. Few Forsaken fell, as they were much faster than those of the Scourge. Arthas remained to prepare their ships. Varimathras Doomed several Scourge members, while Sylvanas herself Charmed several Frost Wyrms and Abominations. These held off the rest of the party long enough for the gap to become quite large.

Finally, they found a place where they could rest. The place reeked of magic, and was in fact a clearing made by dark magic. Sylvanas could not recognize it, but Varimathras shuddered. "Lady Sylvanas, there is one hope for us." He spoke the truth, as the Scourge advanced upon them. However, he could not finish, as the ground suddenly erupted in flames. Some of the few Forsaken who had come to Kalimdor with Sylvanas broke towards the trees, only to return to the center of the clearing. More flames had erupted, sealing off all entrances and exits to the clearing.

Without warning, one of the Banshees spoke up. "Lady Sylvanas, this close to the Lich King, several of us may join the Scourge..." Sylvanas wore a questioning look at this. She didn't know that Arthas and the Lich King were one. To illustrate the point, one of the other banshees turned traitor and possessed an Abomination who had escaped the Scourge. Sylvanas quickly Charmed the Abomination back to her side, but it wasn't enough. Two more banshees began to attempt possessing other Forsaken. Varimathras Doomed one and killed the other. The doomed one, unable to cast spells, flew into the flames. It perished, as well as the Doom Guard that spawned from it.

To the great fortune of Sylvanas, most of the Forsaken remained hers. She noticed Varimathras trying to channel the flames. "What are you up to?" she asked.

Varimathras continued while he spoke. "This part of the world has been weakened by the Jaedenar. Perhaps, we could open a portal." He kept up his spellwork. "It is our only route of escape."

Sylvanas hated the prospect of having to flee from the only world she had known, but she hated the idea of being unable to exact revenge against Arthas even more. She quickly added her magic to the 'portal,' not knowing the exact spells required. In fact, she had never even seen a portal before. Not an active one, anyway. She had seen Varimathras use weak portals, she remembered, but such a portal could not allow all of them through...

"O! great lord of the Legion! I call to you, and humbly ask for your salvation!"

Only a small portal appeared before them, but it was apparently was enough. Varimathras had called into it, and Sylvanas shivered slightly at the force he had called. It had come, whatever it was. And it was then that realization hit Sylvanas: the Jaedenar, who had tried to open portals here, worshiped Kil'Jaedan. Kil'Jaedan the Deceiver was the lord of the Burning Legion, after the deaths of Sargeras, Archimonde, Tichondrius, and Mannoroth. Of the five great demons, he was the only that remained. And he would stop at nothing to take the world which had denied him and his masters, time and again...

AN: And this is just the beginning...


	10. Search for Grim Batol

Warcraft IV: War of Legends

Chapter 9: Search for Grim Batol

Thrall's journey to Grim Batol was one of slight remorse. Few orcs knew what was there, and he was one of them. Cairne had insisted on coming with a group of Tauren, as had a number of Troll Shadow Hunters. Rok'Han, Rexxar, and Cairne were the only ones the Warchief allowed with him. A larger group could be seen as an attack force, and they were approaching Alliance lands.

The one part of the situation that truly bothered him was the purpose of his journey. He knew that the mage had felt that Thrall needed to ally his forces with the great beings that dwelled within once tainted caves. However, though they had once fought alongside orcs before, they were slaves to the Horde. However, their queen had since forgiven Thrall for his people's crimes. This did not mean, however, that the Red Dragon Flight would join the Horde.

Thrall had tried to reach Sylvanas, but she was no where to be found. In fact, the entire Forsaken faction appeared to have disappeared. It was for the best, he thought, since the Queen of Life would outright refuse a request by those who stood beside the Undead, whether Scourge or Forsaken. And more than anything, the Horde hoped for Alexstrasza's blessings.

The Goblin Zeppelin that was carrying the heroes of the Horde landed still some distance from the caverns. "Sorry guys, we can't get any closer without getting killed! Besides, I got some business here!" said the main goblin pilot. His single co-pilot merely nodded. Thrall checked his mini-map and saw he was actually quite close to the entrance.

"This should be fine," he said as he left the zeppelin. The other passengers disembarked, and the pilot walked towards a small hole in the ground. The co-pilot remained to keep the zeppelin safe, and the four heroes approached the cave. Even though the mini-map showed them to be very close, the surrounding area was vast. The small distance shown was truly the size of a small outpost. Thrall's Farsight showed him that a single Shade ran around the mountain, right before it was destroyed by a Red Dragon. Not wishing to tell his friends their purpose for being here, he motioned for them to follow carefully.

They encountered no dragons before the entrance. Thrall used his Feral Spirits and his Farsight to spot any dragons beforehand. He was able to navigate straight to Alexstrasza's main chamber without any casualties. As he saw the massive dragon, it occurred to him that the Red Flight might like to ambush and capture intruders. To show his good intent, he called upon the stone and earth spirits to speak to the Dragon Queen. From the ground small plants sprouted to show the Queen of Life that the new intruders wished an audience, and meant no harm.

"Why are you here, young orc? What has driven you here?" asked the massive dragon. Her red scales were each the size of a tall dwarf, in both length and width. Each tooth in her massive maw made Cairne look like a gnome. Her wings only fit in the chamber because she kept them wrapped around her body. Though the Scourge had removed much life, they remained partially alive. Though it brought her pain, the life energy stolen returned to her, but did not dissipate. Her body had grown over time. The living kept their energy, while all energy left the dead. Undeath was a horror that the queen could barely endure.

"I come to seek your blessing, Queen of Life. A Dragon came to me and told me of dark times to come. The humans of Theramoore have already fallen. The Undead Scourge was responsible for the kidnapping of their lady. If the Scourge adds her to their ranks…"

The dragon roared, which all present noted as both pain and anger. "The Scourge is a monstrosity! All the dragon flights fight against the Scourge when possible, with the exception of the Black Dragon Flight. The Lich King of the Scourge, and most of the Liches who serve him, were once orcs like yourself. One, however, was a human Necromancer. If you can slay him and capture his soul, I will give you my full blessing. However, my flight will assist you until then."

"So I shall, great Queen of Life. And I hope that the cause of your pain will bother you no more." With that, the heroes of the Horde left the chamber of Alexstrasza. The chamber remained almost empty until a small figure emerged from a hole in the ground.

"Are you sure it is the only way?" she asked, doubt filling her voice. She barely heard the response, but knew what it was. Regardless, she lowered her torso low enough for the small goblin blade to cut between two swollen scales. Her life-giving blood dripped upon another blade, forged of goblin and dwarven fires. Engraved upon it were five runes, and the blood filled the first. The rune flashed a brilliant red.

The wound normally would have healed instantly, but the sickness in the dragon let the blood flow freely. The blade which absorbed her blood entered the wound and closed it. 'The blade's first function is done. Now the other four must add their powers…' He exited the tunnel and ended up beside a Goblin Zeppelin. "Hey, take off without me, 'kay?" Once they join with the Reds, they won't need your services, and we can go back! I'm going west, so see ya then!" The small goblin then turned into a massive Blue Dragon and flew the long journey west, where the next two Aspects dwelt…

AN: That blade is important, and uses a type of ancient magic I made just for this. It will have one property for each Aspect, and the first is healing…


	11. Upon a Flying Dream

Warcraft IV: War of Legends

Chapter 10: Upon a Flying Dream

Day after day, Tyrande wished for Malfurion's return. Her love was able to send the occasional message, but few reached her. She had spoken to Remulos, who had also received these sorts of visions. Malfurion watched over Illidan, and told her that the Dream spread farther than ever before. The very fabric that divided Azeroth from Outland was torn during the human's second war. This was only part of the reason her love was unable to leave the Emerald Dream.

With the help of Ysera, Tyrande hoped to find her lover. However, those who were most loyal to She of Dreaming also began to become corrupted by whatever evil remained beyond the mortal realm. Ysera, to escape the evil, began to stay more and more corporeal in the mortal realm. Cenarius, her son, was completely trapped in the realm, however, and she was concerned at all times. She came and went whenever she pleased, and this day was no different.

"High priestess, your general Istraz did not reach the coast in time. Remulos escaped, but the entire base, along with almost the entire order of the Druids of the Pack, fell. The remainder of that order has vanished, and the Undead continue their march north. Contact with Maligns has all but faded, and North rend is lost to death. All of this must have something to do with their strike in Theramoore."

Tyrande took this news in stride. Istraz, who she had finally begun to trust, had now fled! Of all the druids to do such a thing, it had to be the one who commanded such respect from his fellows! Of the Storm rage brothers, she saw the difference between both tactics and allies. Malfurion used the earth and the living creatures to aid him as they saw fit. Illidan, on the other hand, delved into the darkest reaches of magic to use it against the Legion and his other enemies. His Nag and Blood Elves would occasionally raid a Night Elf village, and they would soon be turned away.

Istraz, however, was quite odd. The other Druids of the Pack respected him, though he seemed more youthful than the others. His disappearance could only mean great difficulty in the times to come. "Thank you, Great Aspect."

"She of Dreaming, I have a request of you. I wish to end the Scourge," said a Night Elf who came from nowhere, "And a friend of mine believes he has found the way. I need but a drop of your pure blood to fill the rune in this blade," and at this he showed his blade. The first rune glowed a bright crimson, though the others retained the metallic look of the blade. Ysera turned to him in surprise.

"I refuse my blood, which can put even the most vigilant of guards to sleep. Now leave me and the High Priestess, foolish youth." He turned and left without another word. "You Night Elves are now a mortal race. But, as we have lived as allies for these many years, I would like our kin to join. I came today to ask your alliance. My Flight is falling in the Dream to a dark enemy, and so I wish for your assistance."

The two spoke for hours. At the end of their conversation, they agreed to join together their forces. Ysera left and reached the woods before the Night Elf who had intruded once again appeared before the Aspect of the Emerald Dream.

"Ysera, She of Dreaming, the Green Dragon Aspect, sister to the Queen of Life… Once more I ask for your blood, which will indeed put any mortal being into a near eternal slumber… Even the Scourge will sleep… However, the Life within the blade will let one survive their slumber. Its power could let you watch over the dream, untainted by any darkness. Just a drop of your blood will grant this power to the blade…"

Ysera thought of his words. Few could learn such magic, and even fewer could actually command it. Despite this, the blade remained intact through the power of some unseen force.

"Alright. Take my blood to the blade, and command the power of slumber…" She returned to her true form, a massive green dragon. The Night Elf took a blood-stained dagger out and plunged it beneath the Green Aspect's scales. Blood trickled out, less than Alexstrasza's, but still quite a bit. It filled the rune next to the Red one, charging the blade with the power of a second Aspect. He then took the blade and stabbed it into She of Dreaming. The wound not only healed, but Ysera closed her eyes. She began to slip into the Dream, her physical body becoming ethereal flesh. She had no more power than before, but now the darkness which tainted her realm could not infest her.

Once more, a Blue Dragon flew from the forest, headed south this time. An eternal slumber could pass in an instant only under special circumstances…

AN: Ysera visits every place in disguise, and I am aware of slight continuity issues. The blade nears completion…


	12. The Palace of Sand

Warcraft IV: War of Legends

Chapter 11: The Palace of Sand

Istraz had a job to do before he joined his master. He had a strained relationship with the Qiraj at best. Most that he encountered were Undead Crypt Fiends or Crypt Lords. This place, however, was one of the few the Scourge had reached. Where Azjol'Nerub had fallen, the southern insects thrived. The Lich King's power was far thinner here. Even so, it annoyed him to suffer them.

A Silithid Mantis approached him. "So, you are the one who brought Quel'Tira here?" The Mantis nodded. He pulled from behind him a warblade with three runes carved into the metal. Two glowing runes, one red and one green, stood beside one another on the left curve of the blade. Istraz took the blade. "I shall do my part. Then, take it to the master."

The Mantis flew away, leaving Istraz relatively alone. He then made his way through the desert for around an hour. He had a canteen of water and a Potion of Greater Health to tide him through. All of a sudden, he felt like he had been removed from the world. The blade he held shuddered, and he felt solid ground. He looked up and saw a large bronze leviathan. Without even speaking, he nodded.

Istraz cleared his throat. "Oh, Timeless One, great Nozdormu, I ask for your blood, which both ages and keeps immortal!" The Aspect of Time allowed Istraz to approach with the dagger which was attatched to Quel'Tira. The dagger, stained in red and green blood, left a small gap in the dragon's scales. Rather than blood, sand flowed from the wound. The grains of sand filled a third rune.

Istraz turned to leave, but then asked the great dragon, "How will it end?"

"Quessstioning yourssself? How unlike you… I sssee all, and the world will ressstore itssself in the end. I know how everyone will die, and you will sssuffer a grave wound at the end. One that ssshall dessstroy any mortal body… Your ssspirit may live on, but your body will not sssurvive…"

As Istraz left, Nozdormu questioned the sanity of the one who ordered the creation of the blade…

Istraz used his Staff of Teleportation to bring himself to the Mantis who gave him Quel'Tira. He offered the blade back, along with the dagger, which was now a slightly yellowish colour. As he walked away, the Mantis became a Blue Dragon. Istraz looked back in time to see him fly away. And, unbeknownst to him, he had the same thought as Nozdormu: 'How insane must one be to create such a weapon?'

Nozdormu's agents returned about fifteen minutes after Istraz left. They had been sent to ally themselves with the humans of Theramoore. Stormwind Keep had gotten word of the proposed Alliance, but the Timeless One had wished only to ally his Flight with those humans in Kalimdor. The dragons he had sent now told him that all was arranged…


End file.
